


Aussie Kids

by itsaquinnquinnsituation



Series: X Years Later [17]
Category: Newcastle (2008)
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:44:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaquinnquinnsituation/pseuds/itsaquinnquinnsituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aussie Kids

**Author's Note:**

> None of the characters or the plot of the original movie belong to me. I am not making money off my work, which is written for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> This is my universe and exactly how I see it. Writing should be enjoyed, not judged.
> 
> Some harmless fun! I've been wanting to write this one for so long, but have been so busy! Here it is, finally!
> 
> Loads of my favourite run-on sentences. Sorry, but that's how my mind works - and I don't want to stop it!
> 
> I highly recommend everyone to watch this movie.

La Barca, Sydney. Nineteen forty-five on a Friday. 

Jesse was watching Andy watch Fergus. 

 

Somehow watching Andy was proving a lot more fun than the lackluster game of pool that the Sydney lads had invited them to post-competition. The whole thing was, in any case, about as weird as it gets, because, really, Jesse was not quite sure just *what* the Sydney guys were celebrating. The only one to have actually had a cause to celebrate, the skinny blond Naylor who could not have been any older than twenty, was standing quietly in the corner, looking determinedly awkward, twisting a beer bottle in his sweaty hands. He had placed second in the meet, his greatest accomplishment to date, Jesse surmised by the complete lack of interest in him on the part of his comrades. The lad that placed third, a foreigner with an uncommon name Sascha, was not even there at all, he had some train to catch back to wherever he came from. 

The only guy who actually should have been chugging drinks like there’s no tomorrow and talking the ear of off everyone willing to listen, telling them this and that and how he *totally couldn’t have hoped* he was going to win, and how, *ah, but whatever, I really didn’t actually do my best*, or perhaps, on the other hand, graciously accepting compliments, or even – hell, Jesse, in his place, probably would be – bragging unabashedly whilst going over and over the tricks of his routine - was actually quietly sipping his beer, his back to the large window, making a lazy, disinterested small talk with another Sydney lad, Logan, who was all but swallowing every word that was coming out of his mouth – Logan himself had come in fifth and, like Naylor, was still rather young, and to him, coming fifth obviously still mattered, oh good grief, Jesse thought. 

Jesse himself was as irate as could be, but you would have to know his history to understand why. When Andy had gone off to Wollongong to join Fergus at college, it opened the widest path ever for Jesse to win. Nathan was still participating, of course, but half-heartedly; he had lost the passion for it sometime over the years. But Jesse, no, Jesse was still goddamned determined to win at least one of those trophies that decorated Victor’s shelves, that *still did* for God’s sake, though it was now him, Jesse, who was occupying that room. He was bloody well bent on replacing his brother’s relics with his own, which is why he was exceedingly grateful, God forbid Fergus would ever find out, to his younger twin brother for luring his strongest opponent away. Oh yes, as much as he would have never admitted it to his face, he was all but secretly elated when Andy was gone.

But here’s the thing. It was like Andy had taken whatever good luck away with him. Since his departure, Jesse’s performance had worsened. It was like everything was going wrong, every time. Either the waves were too mild, or his board just would not glide, or his stomach was giving him trouble the day of the competition. And besides, it was as if in Andy’s absence, the audience had really no interest in the show. The families sat apathetic and listless, chugging their colas, munching on hotdogs and fries sold at the confectionaries all over Newcastle beach, talking about everything but the surfers. There was a sense of obligation in just about every individual’s presence on the beach on those days, perhaps, if you excluded the kids and the seagulls. The crowd has lost its soul and Jesse was slowly losing his hope.

And now Andy was back. He and Fergus had come up from Wollongong right after Fergus’ graduation which Jesse himself did not attend. Neither did his family, for that matter, but his grandfather, driven over there by Andy’s mother, made sure to send out pictures to everyone on the family’s email chain. Not that Jesse ever looked at them. Now, Andy didn’t graduate yet, of course, he had begun two years after Fergus, and Jesse was sincerely hoping that both of them would stay down there for another two years – but no such luck – Andy, completely unperturbed by Fergus’ job offer in Newcastle, had simply quit and moved back up here with him. They’d found themselves a nice little apartment in a cute vintage ex-single family home and were busy getting themselves settled in. 

So Jesse really did not even expect Andy to participate in this competition either – what with Andy saying that he never really had a chance to practise much down in Wollongong – ahem, Jesse did not want to imagine, just *what* he was practising over there instead – but Andy did, he’d shown up in the morning at Nathan’s house, his surfboard and sunglasses in tow, and hopped in the back seat of Nathan’s Volvo with Luke, laughing with him as though he’d never really been gone for two years. Well – Jesse should say – it wasn’t like *he* had ever lost touch with Andy, either – there was always texting and Facebook for those things – but it was as if Andy just picked up where he left off with all of the lads, now that nobody was perturbed anymore by his evident whole-hearted commitment to Fergus.

Even when they finally made it to Sydney beach, Jesse still secretly hoped that Andy would either resign or simply flunk, but for once!, watching him biting his nails, looking on at the ocean with unblinking eyes. Luke, who’d by then already helped Andy secure a lifeguard-slash-coaching job back at the hub and was otherwise obviously thrilled to have him back, had come up to inquire about his uncharacteristic anxiety, and Andy answered simply – he felt out of sorts. Luke nodded – yeah, yeah – he could understand (he didn’t) - and that all it would take was to do it again to get back into the flow of things. And besides, he continued, he thought Andy never really cared? Oh, no, Andy responded quickly with a sheepish shrug, but, you know… 

No, and Jesse didn’t know either as he watched him from afar, and really, he shouldn’t be mad at him at this time, not after Andy had given him two years to win all the competitions he wanted and he - *he,* Jesse, had never taken advantage of that, not even once…

 

Before Jesse’s turn, which he’d drawn to be quite early in the show, Andy had come up to slap him on the shoulder and to wish him luck, and Jesse hated him again, a little, because there was not a hint of falseness in his brilliant smile and his gleaming blue-grey eyes, made almost transparent by the sunlight playing in them. And fuck – Jesse did splendidly. The waves rolled in obediently, as if on cue, the water was warm and forgiving, the sun shone on gently, without scorch, and when he ran back onto the shore, failing to hold in his smile, Nathan had nearly swept him off his feet in a hug, with Luke and Andy close at his heels. Jesse’s eyes, though, were only on Andy, probing, searching his face for any sign, any slight betrayal of envy, but none was present as Andy smiled and congratulated him with even more heart in it than the other lads. 

When he found himself alone with Andy, he’d asked him about Fergus. Andy blushed faintly under the bronze of his tan and answered – no, no Fergus could not make it that early, he had to work – but of course - but that he would be there just as soon as he could – bringing Scotty with him, Andy added apologetically. And what then, Jesse pressed on with affront, was Andy really okay with Fergus missing what was not just his boyfriend’s first competition after his return, but quite a grand show in and of itself, something that didn’t happen as often as once a year. Oh, that’s alright, Andy responded, averting his eyes and trying desperately to extinguish his smile, Fergus was sure to watch the recording as soon as he could, and besides, without him there, he, Andy, would feel quite a bit less nervous... 

Well, it must have helped, really, and he must have been quite right about that, because when it was Andy’s turn to be riding the waves, Jesse bit his lip so hard, it almost bled. It was like none of those two years had gone by for Andy, the two years he had everything on his mind, everything but the board. It was as if his ability to surf was not learned like it was for Jesse, a skill that would ebb away if not worked on, day in and day out, no, it was as if it was innate, if his surfing ability was just a part of him, and it wasn’t so much in his tricks, in their level of difficulty, no, it was in the grace and elegance with which he stood on the board. He seemed to adapt to the waves, to mould and transform his body within them, his motions fluid and flawless, sure and clean. Jesse was faintly aware of the crowd having grown quiet, mesmerised by this human cat in the water. And when he was done and running breathless back onto the beach, the crowd explored in roaring, deafening Jesse, so much so, that he forgot to actually go up and praise him, but then, maybe he didn’t have to, because the rest of the world was all over him... 

 

_________________________

 

Fergus met up with them only at La Barca. He was still in his vest-and-tie and accompanied by the most unlikely person to be normally seen with him – that is, Scotty,- but they seemed entirely non-plussed by this forced arrangement – Scotty also had to work earlier in the day and he no longer had his driving licence after his most recent infraction, so Fergus had offered him a ride. As Fergus was hurriedly explaining, after they had parked and were walking up to the front door of the bar, the whole way down to Sydney, Scotty had been attempting to get him to break traffic laws. Having received bits and pieces of the recorded surf competition in a text from Nathan, Scotty was trying to distract Fergus by playing them through the spotty 3G. 

They just about got stuck in the front door, still glued to the video, Scotty with his phone in his hand, Fergus on one side, making comments, Andy on the other, blushing violently and grinning ear-to-ear, and they would have probably parked their mismatched alliance somewhere close by the entrance, vaguely aware of their surroundings until they were done with the videos, but just then, the Sydney guys had made themselves known, announcing loudly that they have reserved two pool tables. 

Nathan nodded at them, yelping: “Cheers”, while Luke proceeded immediately to order the beer. Fergus lifted his head and looked on at the bar.

“Oh, no” – He exhaled and winced.

“What?” – Andy immediately looked up at him over Scotty, then followed his gaze.

“It’s John” – Fergus pointed with his chin to a slim, suited lad sipping a whiskey, who’d obviously been watching the telly earlier – perhaps the live show of the competition, for all that they knew, but was now curiously eyeing the newcomers, - “He’s from Allbright. He’s been my main contact with them for the past mo…” – He didn’t get to finish, because just then John’s eyes fell upon Fergus, he made a gesture of surprise and waived. He was a gorgeous young man, with deep blue eyes, strong jaw and feathery, light brown hair. Fergus forced a smile in return:

“Sorry” – He whispered, shooting a quick glance at Andy, - “I wish, I… I don’t think I can get out of this one” – He added, already looking at John and barely moving his lips, - “I’ll try to be quick.”

Andy followed him with his gaze, as Fergus proceeded over to the bar to greet his professional acquaintance, smiled at John, and returned his look at Scotty, steering him by the shoulders to the pool table, - “So, shall we go?”

Jesse was so engrossed in observing this whole exchange that he failed to notice Nathan’s inquiry as to whether he was interested in playing pool, and, meanwhile, the game had begun without him. Andy, on the other hand, was much more on top of things, because not only had he joined in with the other pool table, presided over by a tall, very good-looking Sydney native Marcus, but also accepted a beer from Luke, got one for Scotty, and then positioned himself against the window, from which he could observe the entirety of the bar. Immediately, another young Sydney lad had crossed over to him from the other table, attempted to wedge himself between him and Scotty, and failing to succeed, approached him from the other end and began to talk. Andy, one eye on the bar, one eye on Logan, was answering his questions slowly, languidly, facial expressions completely disconnected from what he was saying. And that had to with what was happening just a few metres across from him, at the bar. 

John had, evidently, either few or completely no manners, as he’d seemingly latched onto Fergus with an iron grip. Fergus was carrying on with the conversation entirely politely at first, but when, even after he’d pointed his boyfriend out to John (Andy blushed again and dropped his gaze to the floor like a schoolgirl), John did not appear any more amenable to letting him go back to his friends, Fergus had repositioned himself, leaning with his back on the bar, feet crossed, beer in hand, one eye on John, the other on whatever was going on behind the pool table, and continued their discussion in much the same way Andy was maintaining his own with Logan. 

Jesse was by then only vaguely conscious of his own surroundings, that is, standing in the corner much in the same way Naylor was. He was quite mad at Naylor – if not for the lad’s last minute performance, Jesse would have still been in the third place – not that being in any place besides first ever really mattered once you were of drinking age (or so he always ostensibly and adamantly professed). But Jesse hardly even noticed Naylor there, because disinterested in the excited conversation that Luke was having with Nathan and another two lads over the pool game, Jesse had come to think that if you didn’t know what to look for, the most amusing thing that was currently taking place in the bar was quite easy to miss. 

It started when they greeted each other in La Barca parking lot. At the sight of Fergus’ car – which was really Andy’s Dad’s old car which was usually just languishing near Andy’s mother’s house, Andy all but catapulted himself out of the backseat of Nathan’s Volvo and zoomed through the small space between them with laudable speed. Fergus, who’d only managed to just step out of the car, was greeting him with a smile so relentless that it was quite obviously embarrassing him, because he ended up drawing his look to the ground. Andy halted at that point and proceeded towards him slowly, visibly forgetting to breathe. When he’d come to a stop in front of him, Fergus lifted his head again, smiled even wider and cocked his head:

“So, did you win?” – Jesse read his lips from a distance.

Andy only dropped his look to the ground like Fergus did earlier, visibly flushed, and gave him a small shrug. But Fergus immediately put him out of his misery by drawing him into a chaste hug, mouthing something that looked either like: “Damn!” or like “Man!” or could have even been a nonsensical exclamation of excitement, but they didn’t really get to enjoy this private moment of celebration because both were promptly accosted by Scotty, who was now all but shoving his phone in Andy’s face inviting him to see his own performance as recorded by Nathan in distorted and pixellated bits. As the trio proceeded towards the front door of the bar, Scotty having rudely inserted himself between the boyfriends and highjacked the line of conversation with his obsession over the videos, their eyes continued locked behind Scotty’s bowed head, and now it was Fergus who was blushing fiercely, Andy looking on at him with admiration and pride. 

Indoors, their little game continued. Andy not only did not appear to mind that his boyfriend did not spend so much as five minutes with him before becoming engaged with his professional acquaintance - and a good-looking one at that - but seemed to enjoy observing their exchange. John was clearly so interested in Fergus that he either did not notice or did not care about the latter's lack of reciprocity, and Fergus, taunting his boyfriend across the room by carelessly leaning onto the bar, white sleeves rolled up to the elbows, long black fringe falling almost into his eyes, was surreptitiously sending Andy glances so expressive as to appear rather indecent. 

Andy himself was alternating between being a good sport in Fergus’ challenge and utterly failing. Without his own conversation partner – Logan, most of the time – taking any notice, Andy intermittently broke out in smiles that he tried his best to conceal either by taking a swig of his beer or pretending to momentarily catch up on the pool game. He kept forgetting his turns at pool, and when he did get them, he did so atrociously badly that he nearly collapsed onto the table several times as the poolstick kept slipping out of his grasp, but as the lads were yelping out their jokes that Andy could not be good at everything, the latter had eyes only for Fergus, who continued to torment him from a few metres away. 

Finally though, just about as the second game, in which Jesse was half-heartedly taking part alongside scrawny Naylor, who turned out to be quite good at pool actually, was coming to a close, John had finally paid his bill and left, and Fergus, pretending to wipe his brow, walked over to join their little crowd. He came to stand on the other side of the pool table, next to Jesse and opposite the window, and Andy promptly made several fidgety movements, but, locked in by Logan and Scotty as he still was, dropped down his gaze, exhaled a tiny sigh and resorted to another round of torture. 

Good grief, but what was it with him? - Jesse wondered perplexed. He momentarily remembered an expression he hated, “like a second honeymoon”, but Christ, did that seem to describe them quite right just now. Andy was out of it completely, so flustered by this wordless flirting with his boyfriend that he’d seemingly forgotten about his success of not two hours ago. Fergus, who was much more discreet about the whole thing, on the other hand, put up quite a front of being really enthused about this or that topic, smiling at the Sydney lads with such exaggerated interest that even Naylor had gently inched closer to Fergus. Jesse could swear that none of them knew *before* about Andy and Fergus, but with what was transpiring right before their eyes, he could hardly believe they *still* didn’t.

In the midst of it all, however, he found his short-lived animosity towards Andy begin to subside. He couldn’t deny even to himself that he admired him, and above all, his sincerity, that same quality that made him get all fidgety and fight smiles when Fergus looked at him like that. It was so blatantly obvious how much he enjoyed Fergus, with his pressed outfit and shiny shoes, winning over the hearts of tanned, rugged surfer boys. He stood there, staring at him, more proud of *him* than he was of his own grand victory earlier. And even that little part of it became apparent to Jesse – Andy wasn’t lying when he told Luke earlier that he did not care about winning. Oh, he didn’t alright – it was Fergus who did. And Jesse could tell, that none of this worship from the Sydney lads could ever matter to Andy – only the way that Fergus looked at him did. And suddenly, Jesse was sorely regretting not being present at Fergus’ university graduation. But it wouldn’t have been his brother he would have been looking at. He would have loved to watch Andy watch Fergus.

In the meanwhile, the two pool games had ended and the lads from the other table were tossing about the idea of going to a club. Scotty seemed particularly interested in this one, his annoyed apathetic eyes lighting up – Scotty was never one for meeting new people in controlled environments – his awkwardness and self-consciousness always seemed to ruin his time - but when it came to dancing and causing debauchery, Scotty could care less about who he was with – with alcohol in his blood he down for it all. Thus, a few club names were voiced, a few discussions ensued – no, that one was too expensive, no, that one was too far, the other one closed too early, someone’s uncle worked yet at the fourth one, until a particular name – “Fame” – was thrown out. A couple of the Sydney lads were enthused – Naylor included – but then Marcus scrunched up his face:

“No bloody way!”

“And why not?” – Another lad wondered.

“I’m not going there, there are too many gays!”

“What?”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Have you even been there?”

“It’s a good club actually! And it’s quite close!”

As the Sydney lads continued to argue about it, Jesse observed his brother’s expression. Besides his smile dimming a little and his eyes becoming intent with resolve, there was nothing at all in Fergus’ face that could point to annoyance. He smiled at Logan, with whom he was just then engaged in a conversation, put down his beer bottle, and pointedly addressed Marcus:

“Well, you go right ahead there, lads. I think we’re heading home.”

He promptly reached into his pocket for his wallet. Marcus opened his mouth to respond, but Fergus preceded him:

“It’s getting late and we still have to drive back. Alright, that should cover it” – He slid the bills towards Marcus, but as Jesse was standing before him, the pile of cash ended up right in front of his brother, instead. Jesse promptly realised he had no idea who Fergus included in his “we” as Scotty, who had hitched a ride down with him, was clearly not interested in going home yet, but when Jesse looked over to Andy to see how he might have reacted to Fergus not bothering to request his opinion, he found that Andy was no longer there, and he must have leaped over the pool table unnoticed, because he was now standing behind Fergus, all but breathing down his neck. 

Logan weakly attempted to delay them, but Fergus’ behaviour in settling their bill was so resolute that he must have soon realised, he had no chance. Andy and Fergus shook hands with people nearest to them, nodded to ones farther away, and as if one were a shadow of the other, exited La Barca at once. 

“What was that?” – Marcus yelped just as soon as the door closed behind them, - “Why the fuck did Andy go?”

“It’s his day, man, he should be celebrating…” – Another Sydney lad supported him.

“Why did your brother…” – Logan started, addressing Jesse, but at that time Scotty, who, it seemed, was suddenly jolted out of some parallel universe he was spacing out in, blurted out loudly:

“Or, maybe he will!”

Logan turned to him in a snap, and Scotty barked out an awkward giggle.

Marcus eyed him:

“Whh… Well, what are they, fags?”

Jesse felt blood begin to drum in his ears as he shot a look at Nathan. Nathan was staring at Luke, who was eyeing Scotty with the most scornful expression. But nobody spoke. 

And Marcus leered:

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

They all looked at him, but still, remained quiet. 

“Oh come on! No, really now?!”

Jesse stared at him at his shiny brown hair, his chestnut eyes, his white teeth, showing in his crooked half-smile, and suddenly, felt so angry, so irate that his fingers trembled as he pulled a few bills out of his own pocket. He threw them down into the pile of Fergus’ bills that still lay in front of him, slammed his hand down on the heap and slid the whole thing over to Marcus:

“Yeah, Marcus” – He said pointedly underlining his name, - “And how does it feel to lose to a fag?”

He gave Marcus one more stare, feeling his own face burn and heart race, some uncomfortable, mad darkness trying to creep into his field of vision, and, forgetting to take a breath, flew out of the building. 

When the sufficiently cooled air had hit his face, he immediately began to feel stupid. He could not understand just what had caused his senseless outburst inside, and yet he felt something burning in him, something churning uncomfortably in his stomach, and he could not put his finger on it, besides vaguely noting that it had something to do with Andy, something to do with how honestly he had congratulated him when he’d finished his turn, how he stood there biting his nails in the anticipation of his own turn and how he’d flown across the parking lot to meet Jesse’s brother. And how Andy’s open, unashamed smiled looked nothing like Marcus’ distasteful grin. And somewhere, underneath his racing heart and thoughts, tainted with alcohol and the stress of the day, Jesse felt strangely at peace with what he had done. 

But when he turned towards the parking lot to set off after his brother and Andy to hitch a ride with them back to Newcastle, he felt stupid for the second time. 

They very obviously did not wait for him. They probably didn't expect him to follow, but more than anything, they clearly did not care. They were already almost by the car, walking side by side, and they did not have to hold hands for Jesse to feel everything that resulted in their remarkable behaviour that evening. They looked… rather dashing together, if one could say so, Fergus with his strict business attire, Andy with his tan arms contrasting with the sleeves of his thin white shirt, faces turned towards each other, sun playing joyfully in their hair; smiling, but not speaking, they walked perfectly step-in-step. They did not need anyone defending them, Jesse realised. They did not care about that. Andy did not need anyone telling him he deserved his first place and Fergus did not need to fit in with the surf scene. All they needed was each other. Hell, judging by what he was seeing, they were probably glad to have heard that remark. They were probably waiting for an excuse to get the hell out of Sydney the whole evening. They probably did not want to be there in the first place. Scotty was probably right – Andy *was* going to celebrate his first place. And he was damn going to do what he liked.

 

But with all bridges burnt, so to speak, Jesse had no choice but to run on after them. He was incidentally helped by the delay by Fergus’s car – a small exchange transpired – but they were already inside by the time he, breathless, flung himself into the back seat.

“You guys don’t ever notice anything around you, do you?” – He hissed out, closing the door.

“Oh, you coming with us?” – Andy’s voice betrayed no annoyance as he leaned over towards him, - “I decided to leave my board on Nathan’s car, do you want y….”

“Just leave it…” – Jesse breathed out, leaning back.

Andy shrugged and returned into his seat, exchanging a momentary look with Fergus, - “You didn’t want to go to the club?”

“I didn’t want to go with them!” – Jesse yelped, immediately realising how petulantly he sounded, so he added, - “I didn’t want to go to that club!”

“You didn’t want to go to a gay club?” – Fergus clarified wickedly, and Jesse saw Andy’s lips stretch in a smile. Fergus turned to the back to reverse out of the parking spot. Jesse squirmed:

“It’s not a gay club! Those guys are douchebags! I just don’t want to… I… I mean we don’t have to… We’ll just go to a different club!”

“Yeah? Andy, you have interest in going to a ‘different’ club?” – Fergus returned to look at the front as he guided the car out of the parking lot and towards the road.

Whatever it was he was continuing to get at seemed to amuse Andy to no end because the latter burst out laughing. 

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to! I can just go… I can just go by myself! You can drop me off downtown!”

Andy had stopped laughing for a second, turned towards him in the back, smiled gently at him, but upon turning back towards the front, he once again locked eyes with Fergus, which sent him into another laughing fit. 

“What the hell is wrong with you two? You guys are arseholes! You guys are even worse than they are!” – Jesse crossed his arms over his chest, without giving too much thought as to how it looked, but just then his brother, who’d stopped the car at the stop sign before guiding it onto the main road, gave him another wicked look in the rearview mirror. 

Jesse gave him the middle finger:

“Whatever!”

Fergus narrowed his eyes at him in the mirror, exchanged another conspiratorial glance with his boyfriend, who was still shaking with laughter, and pulled his car onto the road, swiftly getting into the fastest lane:

“You said it, Jesse” – He smiled again and pressed his foot harder into the gas pedal:

“Whatever!”


End file.
